


Hunger Pains

by IndecisiveRaven



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, M/M, Out of Character, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-04-07 21:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14090307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndecisiveRaven/pseuds/IndecisiveRaven
Summary: But ask yourself this: do you honestly think that your children can win a war.  - General Ironwood.THE TREATY OF TREASON – In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female tribute between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public “Reaping”.These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of Atlas.And then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death, until a lone victor remains.Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.A. K. A,  The Bumbleby Hunger Games AU that no-one asked for.





	1. The beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Gracious Readers and Tributes. Thank you for taking an interest in this work. Its my first time publishing on Archive and I don't have a beta. So I apologise for any mistakes. 
> 
> Aside from that, I just wanted to say now that this work does deviate from both Hunger Games and RWBY canon by kind of mashing them all up into one.
> 
> So, disclaimer: I own neither franchise and mean no disrespect to them in this monstrosity of a AU.
> 
> Aside from that, please feel free to leave kudos and comments. They do make my day. So yeah, I hope you enjoy this work. And may the odds be ever in your favour.

The black line endlessly spirals and twists throughout the Emerald forest, forcibly parting the mesmerising sea of autumn trees. Though Blake knows the gentle cries of baby birds and the soothing whistle of wind in the valley surround her, every sound is drowned out by the sudden heavy churn of the approaching train; they don’t have much time.

Five kilometres away to the south, the tip of the white fang encampment of District twelve splits though the bleeding red foliage, the highest point of the central hall shimmering like a beacon in the midday sun as if to call her home, but Blake ignores it. She has to focus on the mission. After all, the people they left behind depend on them.

The thought of all the innocent children that would be at the Reaping today makes her uneasily shift her weight from one foot to the other as the pre-mission nerves begin to settle in.

It’s something that always happens to her before an operation, and she tries to snap herself out of it. They can’t afford any mistakes today, because if they failed, two more kids were going to be sent of to their deaths... Kids like her.

Kids like _Ilia_.

Blake sighs before looking behind her and taking a seat on a large protruding rock. Her arms and legs were starting to shake from the stress the memories brought. And if she was to survive the next stage, she knew that she needed to calm down now.

Clenching the bottom of her shirt in her hands, she takes deep, even breaths and works on steadying herself. It had been two years now, and she was finally going to keep her promise: No-one else from their district would ever be taken to the games ever again.

“You’re losing focus, my love.” Adams voice quickly pulls her away from her own mind. He speaks with a deep certainty, almost like a purr – but with a hint of venom in the undertone.

"Don’t tell me that you’re thinking about that lowly peasant girl again, Blake. You know how much of a distraction she was for you.”

An intense feeling of sadness rushes over her at the words. It wasn’t as if Ilia actually was a distraction, it was just that for some reason, Adam despised her. And he was never shy about letting everyone, including said girl, know it.

“No, Adam. I – I was just concerned for the mission, and for the other tributes.” She half- lied.

“Don’t be.” He says, almost softly. “You know that I have been working tirelessly to ensure that our people’s children have only been admitted once into the Reaping."

Blake frowns at the blatant lie. “I thought that was Sienna’s role.”

The words must have unnerved him, because suddenly he stiffens like a board and whips his body around to face her. “Who told you that?”

“Corsec and Fennec.” She lies, again. She doesn’t know why or how she’s doing it – but he seems to believe her.

“Fools.” He growls, clenching his fingers tightly into a fist. “I want you to stop talking to them, Blake. They spread nothing but rumours and falsehoods to gain favour with Sienna.”

He then stands and starts pacing across the little clearing that they’re in. His black clothes on his lithe figure swaying unnaturally as he moves.

And suddenly, Blake’s thankful that the cliff-side that they stand upon inside the Vale rises high above the train tracks and trees: not only preventing any patrolling Peacekeepers from seeing them, but also giving her the perfect view of the train as it dashes closer and closer. It reminds her that she’s here for a reason. And that reason isn’t him.

“You know that it’s because of me that White Fang recruitment has tripled in recent months. Right, my love?” Adam suddenly asks after minutes of pacing. “You do understand that I’m the real reason that our district, our people are thriving and are stronger than ever?”

Blake fingers immediately start to twitch and her breathing quickens. She knows from experience that she has to choose her next words very carefully. For whenever Adam was ever in a self-doubting mood such as this, things could turn bad very, very quickly.

“Of course, Adam.” She begins in a monotone voice, her hands gently trembling now. “Sienna is just the political face of Twelve. You are the real figure head of the people.”It’s his own words that she’s heard him repeat a thousand times to his most loyal followers thrown back at him. She just hopes that its believable enough to convince him that it’s what she really thinks.

He stops pacing and slowly turns to her. A cruel smile written on his face as if he’s proud of her answer. “Good girl.”

Blake says nothing back. She doesn’t want to, and even if she did, his words have made her throat tighten and stomach drop – and not in a good way.

He chuckles darkly at her before crouching down on the grass. Clearly ending their conversation and making Blake rush to calm her racing heart.

She hated it when he did that.

It had been happening more and more often recently: the pet names, or the degrading compliments. But she didn’t dare ask him to stop, knowing that it would just make him even more agitated.

She sighs at the thought, deliberately looking away from Adam and back to the target. She has to be strong, she can’t let such a insignificant thing as Adams torments get to her.

It takes her about a minute, but by the time that she feels calm and ready enough to proceed, the train reaches the halfway point between the horizon and their position.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable jump down the cliff’s edge and onto the train. Though they have spent months preparing for this, her ears still start twitching uncontrollably beneath her bow as she focuses on how the whir of machinery becomes louder and louder as the slick black train weaves through the trees towards them. The action reminding her of how a snake slithers through grass, hunting for prey.

A strange feeling coils in her gut for a moment as she wordlessly looks back down and tracks the massive vehicles motion. Of course, she’s seen trains like this before. They always arrive here, every year on this exact day like clockwork to pick up tributes. But there’s something angry and tight which growls deep in her chest this time at seeing the Schnee logo engraved onto the carriages.

Maybe it’s the fact that, from what Adam has told her, all the other districts are all less willing to fight back against the Capitol – some, such as District one and two even glorify it.

It makes her hands involuntarily clench into fists at her side at the injustice of it all. People are being _murdered_ , and their governments and people just let it happen. Some companies even going so far as to supply the Capitol with supplies and weapons. She glares at the silver snowflake on the sides of the compartments once more, knowing that the top production of such goods came from the Schnee family.

And as if Adam can sense her unease, across the hill he rigidly shifts. “Blake, its time.” He lowly commands, leaning forwards towards the sheer drop of the cliff, ready to jump. Not even looking back at her as he prepares, knowing that she will follow.

Without sympathy Blake tears her eyes away from the target and to her partner, striding towards Adam before crouching low next to him, mirroring his stance perfectly without effort. The sheer amount of time that they had put into their training for this mission had clearly paid off.

It doesn’t mean however, that her heart isn’t racing. She isn’t afraid of the height, or even falling. But, that tingling feeling of doing something dangerous is always there in her stomach before she begins. It makes the atmosphere around them tense; time seemingly slowing down and suspending around them as the first carriage charges past with a deafening roar.

Adam jumps first.

Without a second’s hesitation, Blake releases all of the coiled tension within her muscles and pushes off the ground, following his lead as they soar through the air.

Time loses all meaning. There is no balance, no gravity, and no guarantee of survival. In a second, she’s suddenly just a seventeen year old girl again. But just as quick as she enters the eye, the outer storm envelops her again.

A cutting breeze picks up from nowhere, forcing Blake from her haze as it pushes her back to the cliff-side like driftwood caught in a tide, and she fights it as she plummets through the sky. Tensing her muscles to combat the force, her arms quickly aching and her body tilting backwards before she can stop it.

Then the ground rises from the mist.

Her knees take the brunt of the impact but the pain is quickly swept away by the sensation of slipping across the rocky surface. Thick puffs of chalk erupting in the air as she crouches and surfs down the cliff in a diagonal motion, her right food leading the charge.

She squints her eyes, looking for the train but the white clouds are the only thing she can see - until a red and black blur skids past her peripheral.

Adam.

The rocks churn and grind in a dull roar as they move together like an unstoppable avalanche, before his face suddenly whips down and he jumps through the heavy mist that they have created. Blake closes her eyes as she once again pushes off of her unstable surroundings and leaps into the unknown.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing she registers as she lands is the violent hum of metal and machinery beneath her feet and right hand, the vibrations being the give-away that despite how complicated and dangerous the journey down had been, it was worth it.

They’d made it onto the train.

Adam stands next to her, checking their surroundings as Blake gets up; It’s time to begin.

Adam quickly moves across the carriage until he reaches a small metal hatch. Leaning down, he effortlessly pries it open with his bare hands before he turns towards Blake and menacingly grips the hilt of his sheathed sword.

The hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand on end at the sight of nothing but cheerful glee on the features not concealed by Adam’s mask as he squeeze’s Wilt. He then turns, ignoring Blakes sudden discomfort and wordlessly drops into the open compartment.

She doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t immediately follow him down the hatch. Instead, she just stands there, idly recounting how Adam always tries to suppress his feelings on a mission, claiming that emotions make a person weak and vulnerable.

So why was he so gleeful now? He wasn’t going to lose it like he did on their last operation, was he?

Blake shook herself.

This time will be different. The last incident had just been a mistake. Self-defence...

She huffs as she wordlessly buries her concerns and jumps inside the blacked out carriage. When she drops and hits the floor with a loud thud however, she instantly knows that they are in trouble: They aren’t alone.

“Intruder, Identify yourself!” A robotic voice bellows.

Red lights suddenly flicker alive like flames around them and within the blink of an eye, they’re suddenly surrounded in a small circle of at least ten androids. The robots activating and coming out of the walls from where they had been in stasis.

Before she can respond, a distinctive click resonates from behind her: Adam has unsheathed Wilt.

Knowing that she no longer has a choice, Blake quickly reaches back and grabs Gambol Shroud.

She feels Adam push away from her as she swiftly lunges forwards and cuts through the first machine in a cluster of strikes before she turns to the one on its left and does the same as the piercing screech of Wilt slicing through metal hits her sensitive ears as Adam destroys the enemies behind her.

The second machine meets the same fate as the first, its body quickly being cut into several pieces as Blake spins and quickly removes the humanoid limbs - but just as she turns to the third she has to stop mid-swing.

The android reaches out, its arms quickly transforming with a whir into a deadly machine-gun like weapon.

She pulls back fast, madly crouching and dodging as the machine takes aim and fires. She immediately drops and rolls to her side, barely managing to avoid the rapid fire and hissing as one bullet strays too close to her ear.

Pouncing forwards and crouching low behind one of the many Schnee company crates which line the battlefield, she checks that she is still in one piece. Quickly patting down her body like a mad-man and realising that she’s intact, sweet relief fills her for a second before all too soon bullets rain down like hail in a thunderstorm, effortlessly piercing through her cover.

Dropping to the floor, she grunts as all of the air from her body is knocked out of her system.

Breathing harshly through her nose and picking up on the repulsive scent of gunpowder, Blake cocks Gambol Shroud and waits for the hellfire to stop; There’s no other way out.

Without warning, a shattering shotgun boom dramatically echoes throughout the room, a sign that Adam was still fighting in the centre of the carriage.

The android suddenly stops shooting at her. With un-parralled speeds, Blake seizes her chance and jumps up, launching Gambol Shrouds ribbon towards the robot who had turned and was locked onto the exposed Adam.

The machine stops and quickly looks down at the fabric which is wrapped around its limb before looking back to Blake.

Crouching behind the box and pulling the ribbon with both of her hands, she tugs the machine off balance and slams it into her cover. Only the fake humans torso and head tumbles over the surface, but it’s enough.

Blake pulls the trigger and black oil instantly explodes around them like liquid confetti.

Shoving the broken body away, Blake leaps over her cover and pounces onto the nearest machine. Gambol Shroud singing a harmonic melody as it chips against the robots pale armour as if it were tissue paper, a blur of white and purple as she spins her sword and cleaver in both hands.

Before the sentry knows what hit it, Blake raises both blades high, striking them down in a cross formation in a strike as precise as a viper. The heavy thunk of the machines head echoes throughout the room as she beheads the A.I. 

She lowers her weapons at the sound, her sides clear.

Turning, Blake takes stock of her partner and is stunned by what she sees: Adam, in the middle of the shadowed compartment is fighting like a rampaging beast. Wilt is howling like a rabid wolf as he slices the katana in every direction, yet his stance is solid; his arm and his sword the only things moving.

The automatons he was fighting never stood a chance.

It is as if he has a personal vendetta against them, never once giving them a quick and clean death. He chips away their fingers first, then their kneecaps, their arms and then their throats before tearing off their heads.

Blake never knew that a android could scream.

“Adam, stop!” Blake shouts, not knowing what else to do as she’s frozen in place by his brutality.

Adam promptly pauses before standing straight. He then slowly turns towards her with a vicious smirk stitched onto his face. “What’s the matter Blake?” He barks, his body humming with boundless energy. “You’re not getting sentimental on me now, are you my love?”

Blake swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “No. We just need to finish this mission before Peacekeepers arrive.” She silently fumes as she sheathes Gambol Shroud.

They were fortunate that they just ran into androids; the fact that the machines protocols demand that they only use deadly force as a last resort made it easier to get the upper hand over them unlike Peacekeepers, who were typically more ruthless and shot on sight.

“Let them. It’s not as if they’re getting off this train anyway.” Adam dictates with a snarl, spitting on the floor at the mention of the Peacekeepers.

“But what about the crew members?” Blake questions. Her voice suddenly quiet and timid.

Adam is silent before he steps forwards, spinning Wilt in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, decapitating all of the machines which were still on their knees.

Blake flinches as all of her doubts and insecurities about Adam and the assignment are confirmed: This mission isn’t what she was told it was.

Adam wears a blood curdling smile as he approaches and for the second time today, Blake hesitates.

Yes, she had joined the White Fang without a second thought and had carried out several raids and operations in Twelve against the capitol on their behalf. She won’t deny that. Or the fact that she has terminated machines herself. But at least she doesn’t take pleasure from it, nor did she necessarily want to do it. Adam however, killed for fun.

And that was what this was, what he was doing and what this operation was clearly about; slaughtering anything or anyone that worked for the Capitol or the Schnees.

Blake didn’t know if it was because of Adam’s presence or because of her own sudden self-loathing, but a cold shiver passes down her spine and she has to swallow bile as he stalks past her and looks inside a broken cargo crate.

She’s about to question him about why he lied to her in the debriefing, until she freezes as Adam pulls out a rifle engraved with the Schnee logo from the case and aims it at her chest.

He smirks as he holds the weapon out, twisting and inspecting it - all the while aimed at Blake, before gently placing it back inside the box. "Perfect” He grunts, turning to face her as he once more placed his hand onto his swords hilt. “Move up to the next car, I’ll set the charges.”

Feeling he heart drop, Blake realised that it wasn’t just about stopping the train to prevent it from taking away tributes from the reaping.

_Of course it wasn’t._

She suddenly feels foolish for believing that Adam could be redeemed or that his previous incidents were just ‘accidents’.

“Adam...” She trails off, preparing her last attempt to negotiate or to talk Adam out of it before she’s interrupted by a massive blast of fire and flames as the carriage door is blown off of its hinges.

Immediately sensing that they are outnumbered and outgunned by Peacekeepers, Adam’s the first to move. Turning and charging towards the hatch in the ceiling.

Blake’s hot on his heels as he jumps up, climbing out to open air.

The peacekeepers are filing in the room and opening fire as she leaps, her hands reaching for the latch only to find open air.

She missed.

Just as gravity is pulling her back down to her death, a heavy tug around her wrist forces her back up. She desperately grasps onto Adams hold as he yanks her skyward, the whistle of bullets making her heart beat a million miles a second.

Her knees came into contact with the solid surface of the trains roof at the same time the rest of her body is assaulted by the piercing wind and a cutting blur of scarlet and beige.

Adam hurriedly slams the hatch shut before the Peacekeepers can follow them out, but they know that it won’t keep them at bay forever.

Blake stands on shaky legs, a physical sign that her body is stuck between fight and flight mode as the adrenaline rapidly courses through her system. However, before her mind has time to pick which option to choose, her feet are already moving and running as fast as they can as Adam suddenly pivots on the spot and sprints past her.

Flight it is.

Racing parallel across the roofs, they simultaneously vault over the canyon sized craters between carriages. They are nearly at the front of the train; but it isn’t enough.

Blake grimaces at the sound and feel of bullets firing beneath her feet. Each pounding footstep of theirs was too loud, each landing against metal too pronounced. The thumping noises easily giving away their exact position to the awaiting Peacekeepers below.

Yet, before long they fall into a practised rhythm. After all, it isn’t the first time that they have run from bullets.

Left foot, right foot. Switch sides. Left foot, right foot.

Jump.

The change in tempo seems an adequate distraction as the shocks of mini projectiles hitting the surface under their feet lessens and lessens till after leaping onto a flat carriage surrounded by more crates - just five carts away from their destination, the sensation stops entirely.

Blake grunts in pain as her legs once more take the brunt of the shock from jumping from a high cart to a low one whilst Adam quickly recovers and moves forwards.

They only make it a quarter of a way past the carriage before the Peacekeepers once more blow up the carriage door behind them.

“Move!” Adam yells as he jerks to his right, forcing himself behind a large metallic crate for cover as the Peacekeepers open fire.

Blake crouches low behind the next row of crates on the left side of the tram, heading Adams warning just in time as a stray projectile skims past her cheek.

The bullets hit and ricochet off of the metallic covers, causing Blakes ears to ring at the heavy drone like sound of sleet against glass.

They can’t stay here long.

She dares to risk a glance over her shoulder, past the safety of the box, only to see roughly twenty white armoured suits.

Four rows away.

Power-walking in a line, shooting.

Three rows away.

"Buy me some time!” Adam suddenly roars, snapping Blake back to a sense of normality and away from the pounding in her heart.

“Are you sure?” Blake shouts back.

Two rows away.

“Do it!”

Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth to gather her courage, Blake re-opens them, leaping and rolling across the open carriage, completely out in the open.

A lone Peacekeeper shoots where Adam had been the second before.

The others shoot at Blake. Bullets whiz past and shriek as she tumbles behind boxes and barrels then turns and blindly opens fire with Gambol Shroud before slamming back into cover. Praying to whatever gods exist that it’s enough.

They know exactly where she is now.

The sound of hammering, militant footsteps booms and surrounds her and she thinks that this is the end - until the piercing screams of the dead begin.

Apparently Adams plan had worked.

Seizing her opportunity, Blake pushes her advantage as soon as the peacekeepers turn to face the sudden ambush from behind. Her legs ache, her lungs burn and her heart is heavy with regret but she doesn’t stop.

She runs.

Her body lurches forwards as she soon runs out of ground and crumples weakly as she lands onto the next cart, only throwing a final glance over her shoulder when she recovers her breathing.

She thinks that she’s stable until the sight of Wilt, slashing across a throat and viciously spraying red liquid across white suits knocks all of the air out of her once more.

The distinctive gurgle of blood carries across the wind and weighs her down as Adam plays with his prey.

Snapping her head away from the carnage, Blake stands. She can’t let Adam detonate the charges but she can’t go back to him either.

He isn’t safe.

She’s only four carriages away from the main cab cart, but the other four aren’t the same design as the thicker, bulkier security carriages or the flat cargo ones that she’s standing on, no. The four ahead are much sleeker, higher and are covered in thicker layers of steel.

She can’t possibly jump to the roof in her current condition and she doesn’t have the firepower to break down the door which separates the two carriages.

She’s running out of time, the screams are becoming less and less.

Whipping her head around only to look for a way to stop the train her eyes fall onto the latch which connects the trams together and an idea quickly formulates in her head at the same time Adam’s last victim wheezes their final breath.

She hears the heavy padding of running footsteps at the same time she unsheathes Gambol Shroud.

Her palms sweat and her rib cage feels like it’s in a car compactor, but she knows that she needs to do this. If not for the innocent passengers on the train, then for herself.

She looks at Adam and feels nothing but a numb ache at the hatred, shock and anger in his expression - until he reaches his arm out as if desperately and wordlessly begging her to reconsider. As if he knows what she’s going to do before she does it.

A glimmer of hope slices through her for a fleeting second at the gesture, until her eyes catch the blood that coats his sleeve and chest. The sensation going as quick as it came and she swallows through the pain.

“Goodbye.” She quietly whispers in defeat, her hand steady despite her inner turmoil as she raises her blade and strikes it against the chains which hold them together.

The loud, piercing ring of the breaking of bonds echoes around her as her side of the train continues its journey to twelve whilst Adams side gently slows and stops until his outline becomes a blur in the distance like a bad memory or dream.

She collapses in an exhausted heap onto the still moving carriages then. Just one lone thought pounding through her mind and making everything else feel meaningless.

What had she done?


	2. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake has made her choice. And now, she will have to live with consequences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first step onto the long road ahead. This chapter is slower than the last but sets up the roller coaster which is Chapter Three and beyond. 
> 
> So hold on Tributes. After this, things are going to get a little rough.

Blake refuses to cry. Despite the sudden upsurge of emotions that threatens to spill fresh tears.

It's only been two minutes since she had dislodged the train cart, but she still hadn't found the strength to get up and move. Instead she was stuck to the floor, frozen and unmoving. 

That is until a sudden voice breaks through her stupor.

“What the hell happened here!”

She gasps as her ears flick towards the source of the noise, and in an instant she’s rushing to stand and run from the booming voices of what must be multiple approaching Peacekeepers. The reinforcements seemingly only now noticing that something wasn’t right. 

“Where’s the rest of the bloody train!” Someone shouts as Blake whips her head back, seeing them rush to open the carriage door through a circular window– the only barrier keeping her safe. 

She grunts as she struggles to vault behind a few nearby crates. The pain which blossoms deep in her muscles near unbearable as she runs for her life. 

“Come on,  _ come on!”  _ She hisses as she turns and struggles to heave her lower body onto a stack of containers. The fact that her adrenaline rush was long gone making each move excruciating and slower than normal, yet she didn’t let it stop her – the mere thought of what they’d do to her if she was caught spurring her onwards and past the blistering cold of the Schnee supplies. 

_ Flogging _ .

She scrambles behind a giant box, the dramatic crash of bone against metal echoing sharp in the air like the crack of a whip. 

_ Imprisonment.  _

Wincing past pain, she wiggles her arms and chest into an artificial space too tight and too small to fit the entirety of her body. 

_ Execution _

She clamps a hand over her mouth – not even fully hidden as multiple armed Peacekeepers flood the area with a mighty crash. All of them huffing, panting and grunting like a pack of wild dogs on the hunt. 

Her whole body tenses and her ears violently quake as their footsteps echo and pace around her; Clearly searching for something – or  _ someone _ . 

With a trembling hand, she grabs the hilt of Gambol Shroud.  

She doesn’t want to hurt them, but if it means that she stands even a single chance of making it out of here alive – she’ll do it.

“Here! Over here!” One of them suddenly yells, making Blakes blood turn to ice as she feels the vibration of their steps pound closer and closer until they abruptly stop. 

Right behind her. 

“Look at what we’ve got here boys!” One of them yells before whistling. The sound cutting through the air and chilling Blake to the bone; They’ve found her. 

“Someone must’ve manually detached the carriage.”

_ Wait what?  _

Blake silently heaves as her racing heart is sent into overdrive and after a moment of shocked pause, she slumps almost lifelessly against the numbing metal with a muted ‘thunk’. Thinking that they had found her hiding spot instead. 

“Woah!” Many of the Peacekeepers call out in shock, whilst others swear at the damage that she has caused. “Who the hell could’ve done something like this?”

Panting like she'd just run a marathon and almost disbelieving that this was indeed happening; that she  _ hadn't  _ been caught yet, Blake slowly let’s go of Gambol Shroud and cautiously peeks her head past her cover.

She immediately winces at the sight of seven massive guards all armed to the teeth with various batons, knives and guns. Their pearl white armour blinding beneath the midday sun as each and every one of them stand where she was downed not even a couple of minutes prior. 

Fearing for her life, she slowly goes to retreat back to safety until one of the closer Peacekeepers speaks up. 

“It must’ve been at least a six man strike team.” The man deduces. He's older looking than the rest, with washed-out grey hair and a large beard. Not at all what Blake was expecting, and she wonders for a moment what about him made her pause - until her eyes catch onto a inhuman movement behind him, and she sees the lion tail which flickers gingerly in the air. 

A faunus. 

A  _ Peacekeeper  _ faunus. 

Blake considers rubbing her eyes to wash away the illusion, but after she blinks multiple times she realises that it's true; he's actually real. 

She slowly raises an eyebrow as she takes him in properly, noticing how he's only just smaller than the rest of the men in height and build. Yet, his armour doesn't quite fit him as well as the rest. The way it slightly sags on his form making him seem older and frailer than he already is - almost like he wasn't really meant to be a Peacekeeper, but something else, maybe something like a teacher instead.

“All of them must've been fully equipped and prepared for an assault of such magnitude.” The man finishes after a moment of quiet, whereby no-one seems to pay him any attention, except for Blake. 

She continues to stare intrigued at the soldier, still surprised and awestruck that the others even let a  _ faunus  _ pretend to be one of them. And though it wasn't as if their kind were banned from being Peacekeepers… It was just incredibly rare. 

“I think it was more than six people.” Someone else says, making Blake frown at the wildly inaccurate guess. 

_ Six men _ ? She thinks, her gaze analytical and a little judgemental.  _ If only they knew the truth.  _

“If that's the case then we better get Hazel out here.” Another one sneers as two Peacekeepers leave through the door they came from whilst the rest start up their uneasy pacing again. Patrolling closer and closer to her position. 

“Wait, what if some of them are still here? ” 

Blake trembles as the question is left verbally unanswered, the only action that gives away the answer is how another Peacekeeper visibly grabs his pistol. 

_ Execution.  _

The word echoes in her mind once more and understanding that she’s pushed her luck further than she should, Blake turns back behind the box and out of sight. Silently grunting as she tucks and then folds her knees beneath her arms as she tries to shadow her legs from view.

It's not comfortable, nor is it her stealthiest move. But she knows that she has no other choice as a blur of white abruptly eclipses her vision and moves to the crates opposite her.

Blake holds a bated breath as he looks around the box before he opens it, pulling out a grenade belt, each one the size of an apple before putting it back. He grumbles something under his breath before moving onto the next one, grabbing a blob of what Blake can only assume is C4 instead. 

She's confused as to why he's taking them all out and inspecting them, until he turns his head and yells. “Why the hell are there so many explosives here?”

_ What?  _

The question leaves Blake even more stumped than before. 

_ It was a supply crate, Of course there would be weapons. Why would he be shocked at finding grenades? Unless… those explosives didn't belong to the Capitol...  _

Her eyes widen as the answer hits her hard and fast like she was sitting in front of the train and not on it ; Adam did say about detonating charges, but this? 

She grits her teeth, temporarily forgetting the danger of being spotted as she peers around her. There must've been seven crates filled with bombs on just that one side. More than enough to stop a train, but if every single container housed explosives, it would've been enough to blow up the entire forest. Perhaps even the entirety of District Twelve. 

At the mere thought, Blake has to hold a hand around her mouth to swallow the sudden bile which rises up her throat. 

_ How close had she come to letting Adam potentially detonate these weapons on her own home?  _

“Here, come look at this!” A Peacekeeper suddenly barks out from behind her. The noise making her jump a little as the man opposite her turns his attention back to the centre. “The connector hub is still there. Whoever this was, they must’ve cut the line completely!” 

She doesn't even blink as the patrolling Peacekeepers are summoned back to the center. She hadn't been seen, and the thought that she was sitting on a literal powder keg made it difficult to focus on everything else. 

_ How had Adam got so many explosives?  _

_ Did Sienna know about this?  _

Her stomach drops just thinking about it.

_ Was this their plan all along? _

“How the hell didn't we notice this?” Someone asks, whilst the others mumble trivial things amongst themselves. And though Blake scarcely pays attention to them - too caught up in her own mind, she does note how they talk about things that were of little consequence or importance to her. Conversations on how such an attack was unprecedented, arguments still on how many people were responsible. The highest number so far being  _ Thirteen.  _

It makes Blake lowly groan, wishing that they would take their conspiracy theories elsewhere and just leave her to brood about the White Fang alone.

But then - almost as if someone answers her prayer, the door opens once more and silence falls onto the carriage. 

No-one says a word as three sets of footsteps cautiously enter the fray. One of them significantly louder than the others, almost banging like a hammer against metal as they come forwards, slowing for a moment, then seven paces later they stop entirely. 

It somehow makes Blake feel worse than she thought that she ever would in silence.

“How the hell did this happen? ” A deep gravelly voice demands. Tension clear in his tone. 

One of the men nervously stutters before answering. “We believe that a squadron of ten men attacked the cargo while we were running itinerary with Miss Fall, Sir.”

“And what of these ten men?” The person that Blake can only assume to be ‘Hazel’ asks. 

“We patrolled the area. There's no sign of them, Sir.” 

Blake can't help but sigh at that, the tension in her muscles still there but somehow less pressing than before. 

Hazel rumbles lowly, the sound like an old engine coming to life before he says. “Double the guards holding down the remaining cargo and our guests. They're our priority now.”

The Peacekeepers murmur their approval, and Blake thinks that it's the end of it. That she'll finally be left alone. When somehow, the Lion faunus from before seems to find some courage and speaks up. 

“Sir?” He asks, his voice only slightly timid. 

“What is it, Lionheart?” Hazel answers. His tone deep and almost... Disinterested. 

Curiosity alone drives Blake to peek back over her shoulder, and immediately she notices how there’s an accent of dark mint green around Hazels massive armour. A symbol that he was a Commander, and probably the leader of this little squad. 

“Can we still proceed to the Capitol with the train like this?” Lionheart squeaks out, his hands nervously bundled together. 

Hazel grumbles once more, looking forlorn as he stares down the tracks. “Of course. The Games stop for nothing.”

**_“_ ** _ What! _ **_”_ **

Blake hisses without even thinking as she quickly slinks back into the shadows. Her body drawn tight like a bowstring as a sense of dread quickly builds deep and tight within her chest. 

_ How could they still continue with the Reaping _ ?  _ Three quarters of their damn train was missing for dusts sake.  _

Her once sure and steady hands shake as her lungs start contracting and retracting faster and faster. The necessity of breathing seemingly impossible. 

_ All of her efforts - her betrayal, has been for nothing.  _

_ Her promise to Ilia is meaningless.  _

The thought depresses her to the point of tears. 

“ _ Damn it!”  _ She suddenly growls. Her face scrunching in a pain brought on by the thought of her failure. The bitter tears that have been welling in her eyes fall fast and unabashed, but she makes no effort to stop them. 

Not that she could anyway. 

She was too  _ weak.  _

She sniffles as she sits there and does nothing. Praying that’s the last of the Peacekeepers little talk as the Captain speaks up once more.

“I want the rest of the crew on high alert. This may just be a distraction or the first assault of many.”

“Yes, Sir.“ The others drill back, their boots and voices clicking in unison. 

Hazel hums before he starts walking away. His voice returning to a disinterested tone. “No matter what, we must ensure that this train and the rest of its cargo arrives safely at the Reaping, and that the chosen tributes make it to the Capitol. Is that understood?”

“Understood, sir.” They say as the door between the other carriages opens again. The once terrifying echoes of footsteps now dull and repetitive as Blake assumes that they make their to leave the area. 

“Twenty Lien says a faunus did this.”

Eyes narrowing like a predator in sight of prey, and feeling like the opposite of being doused in ice water; Red, hot anger brews like an inferno in Blakes heart as her hands mold themselves into fists. Her sorrow quickly turning to rage at the remark. 

Another man barks a laugh in response to the first. “There’s no way in Remnant that I’m taking that bet. Damn animals are always responsible for things like this.“

Before she even realises what she's doing, her hand reaches up and grabs her weapon. She then sits up, the sound completely silent despite the pain as she drops down from her perch with the intention to prowl closer to the Peacekeepers. 

“Yeah, no wonder the Commander and Queen sent in more squads this year. It’s about time we put these pets on a leash.” The first man says as he holds the door open for his companion. 

The second Peacekeeper laughs. “I’ll drink to that.”

They both laugh loudly, the click of the door behind them doing little to mute the rough sound. It makes Blake grit her teeth and slam her weapon back into her sheath as she watches them leave. 

Even now, in the moment - knowing that it was for the best that they got away. It doesn't ease her anguish. 

She feels forlorn as she stares at the door for a second. Taking a deep breath and sighing a heavy gust of air as she rolls back behind cover once she realises that they're not going to immediately return. 

And though she's not stupid enough to just sit out in the open with alert Peacekeepers, she's also not self deprecating enough to force herself back into the cramped space either. 

So as her heart thumps in an uneven rhythm - the feeling like the ticking of a broken clock, she places Gambol Shroud onto the ground next to her and shuffles so that her head dangles precariously close to the edge. The whistling winds caused by the vehicles slipstream making her hair whip and flail wildly in the air like some kind of monster. 

She takes a moment to breathe then, lowly whimpering and groaning as she turns to lie on her back to get comfortable . Feeling nothing but sadness as the red twinge of the Forest fades away and the stormy grey of the war torn ruins quickly races to replace it. 

She was almost back. Perhaps another five or ten minutes on this cursed vehicle and she'd be back in District Twelve _. _ The outlier, and frankly abandoned land of explored Remnant.

"Home." She whispers as the train darts beneath the first barb wire fence - thankfully unguarded due to the lack of government officials willing to send soldiers and supplies this far out to the border. 

Which was ironic, she thinks. Turning her head to look at the remains of crumbling walls and fortresses. 

Her district had a rich, ancient history of being built upon deceased forests and swamps which provided the area with an abundance of natural resources back before even her grandparents generation. But, all of them were farmed and drained from the land by the Capitol after the war until nothing remained.    
  
Blake could always recall the venomous way her teachers would always make a point to state that as soon as the elite from the Capitol came and got what they wanted, they left the remaining people here to choke on the dust and decay that they had created in the turmoil.    
  
It was a miracle Twelve managed to survive, but what awed Blake even more so was how - despite being one of the smallest areas of land, it still currently holds a population count of roughly eight thousand. Which though, despite not seeming like much, was an awful lot considering that after the atrocities of the last war, Twelve had suffered the second most civilian and military casualties. Second only to District Thirteen, which used to be located to the South, in old-Vale. Before it was completely decimated by nuclear bombs. 

A fate that Twelve narrowly avoided itself through surrender. 

But that was all in the past, back before the people had no-one to stand up for them. Before her father had formed the White Fang to put an end to the injustice. 

Blake gripped tightly at her chest, taking one last look at the ghosts of her districts past as the second barbed wire fence approached. 

She had tried to carry on her father and Ilias legacy with pride by standing with the White Fang - with Adam, on this operation to secure freedom for their people. But as she was hurtled back through the final outskirts of Twelve she knew that she would be returning, unlibeterated, unsupported and most definitely alone. 

The tears running down her coloured cheeks couldn't have come any faster even if she'd tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter... The Reaping.


	3. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter and the next one in half because I just wrote so much. It just didn't feel right having a 16 page chapter compared to my last 8 page ones. 
> 
> So here we are.
> 
> This chapter obviously isn't the one I said it was in my last notes, so I apologise about that but the next one should be coming out sooner than usual. 
> 
> I hope that makes up for it.

District Twelve. Compact, polluted, grey. Blake could list a million adjectives to describe her District, but none of them would be good. Mediocre at best, perhaps. But never good.

It didn’t help that the sky had seemingly darkened with Blake’s return and the air seemed to hold a rustic taste on her tongue. Whether that was simply from dried blood or the sudden smog, she didn’t know. And neither did she particularly care.

Reaping day made things worse of course, more people than ever nervously scuttling around like scared rats and kicking up dirt as they shuffled in herds to the safe haven of the central hall. If the site of the Reaping itself was the place where the children were safe, and not the proverbial tomb of two unlucky kids that is.

Blake grumbles something incoherent as she shimmies away from the edge of the train carriage. Gently sliding herself off of the slowing train and onto the dusty gravel a safe distance away from the heavily guarded station.

She’d been fortunate that she’d remained undisturbed for the last leg of her journey, but she knew that she still had to keep her guard up lest she rouse suspicion. Peacekeepers had been known to drag civilians to the Reaping if they were feeling particularly brutal.

Holding onto her still aching side, she stumbles forwards. Her knowledge of all of the nooks and crannies of her district allowing her to hobble relatively quickly through a hole that Adam had cut through the fence between the train station and the town a few years prior. She tries not to think of how optimistic she had been this morning when Adam had held her hand and pulled her through the other side as she continues walking for what feels like at least five minutes.

She doesn’t really know where she’s going to go, but the towns a lot busier here, she can hear it. The sounds of whimpering children and disgruntled parents, so she turns around and heads to the left through a couple of alleyways between abandoned houses.

She’d be better hidden this way, and wouldn’t have a weighted reminder of how she had failed those people and their families, so she gladly let’s her feet guide her away from the burdening noise.

The buildings here narrow into cramped and dirty alleyways the further she walks. It’s not the prettiest sight nor is it the safest, but she can no longer hear the children. In fact, she hears nothing at all but her own footsteps.

It’s how she knows that something isn’t right.

She makes it another two minutes on high alert before there’s a startling crash of metal up ahead.

Her ears immediately perk up, and on pure instinct she drops to her feet and crouches behind a nearby bin. The smell is repulsive, but she doesn’t dare move away. It’s her only cover and though its likely the sound may have just been a stray dog, if it was a Peacekeeper, she was done for.

Footsteps slowly approach, and Blake hopes that its just someone who’s lost or hiding before they speak.

“ _Blake_!” They call out. “Blake are you here?”

Blake’s heart pounds as she peaks over her shoulder, the organ only settling down when she realises who’s trying to find her.

“Velvet?” Blake mumbles, confused.

Velvet used to go to the same school as her, but being that she was two years older than Blake, they didn’t really mingle that much. Especially when Velvet and her mother publicly slammed the White Fang and the groups 'extreme' methods for equality.

Velvets rabbit ears instantly pivot towards the sound and her face lifts into one of relief as she realises that she’s found her.

“Blake?” Velvet gasps as she rushes towards her and then kneels down beside her. Her chocolate coloured eyes suddenly nervously darting over Blakes body as she wraps an arm around her. “What happened to you. Where have you been! “

Blake quietly groans under Velvets barrage of questions as she tries to stand up and away from the bin. Though she was grateful that Velvet was helping her, she didn’t really want to speak about the mission right now. “That’s not important.”

“What do you mean it’s not important!” Velvet argues. “Blake, your _parents_ sent me and half the council out looking for you!”

Blake freezes as the words sink in.

_Her parents had sent people away from the Reaping to find her._

“Wha- what! “ She asks, her voice a husked gasp whilst her heart suddenly quakes with unease. “What do you mean. “

Velvet sighs, looking at Blake pitifully before saying. “Corsec and Fennec received a transmission from the emergency comms channel. I don’t know what it was about, but it must’ve been something serious because they’ve put out a reward for your arrest.” She says dead-seriously before taking a breath and adding. “But somehow your father found out about it and sent out his own men to try and find you first. “

Blake was silent as her knees buckle out from underneath her. Not even blinking as Velvet squeaks and reaches out to grab her before she could fall to the floor.

_Why was this happening?_

“Blake. _Blake – please_.” Velvet begs as she tries supporting Blakes weight. “You’ve got to tell me what happened, then we can get you to your parents.”

“Adam.” Blake says with a clear tremble in her voice.

It's the only explanation that she can think of. The only thing that makes sense.

“Velvet, it must’ve been Adam. He – He must’ve had some kind of backup plan. He must’ve been the one to tell Corsec and Fennec.” She explains as she struggles to re-gain balance.

Velvet hesitates for a second as she readjusts Blake underneath her right arm before asking. “Tell them what Blake?”

“That I betrayed the White Fang.”

Blake grimaces at how Velvets face morphs into one of pure shock. Almost as if she’d slapped her in the face instead of admitting that she was a traitor to an organisation that Velvet hated.

“Wh- what?” Velvet stammers. “How?”

“It doesn’t matter how.” Blake almost growls, her agitation of talking about the topic getting to her head. “All that matters is that I can make it out of here before Corsac and Feenec find me.”

That seems to snap Velvet out of her revere as she nods her head before tightening her hold on Blake. Slowly starting to walk them down the alley.

“Okay.” Velvet says as they take a right turn. “We’ll have to be careful if we want to make it to the Victors Village. The Peacekeepers have already cleared this section but they might do another search as there are still kids missing.”

The term _Victors Village_ makes Blake stop walking as her stomach drops. Much to Velvets apparent ere. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? ”

“The Victors Village?” Blake asks sceptically. Hoping that Velvet was somehow joking with her and that it wasn’t seriously her plan.

“Yes.” Velvet confirms as she tries pulling Blake forward. “I know it’s across town, but we can make it.”

“That’s not the problem.” Blake argues, still not moving. “Velvet, I- I can’t go back there.”

Velvet, seemingly understanding that she really didn’t want to go, stops trying to drag Blake alongside her. She does, however turn to face Blake and sighs, the way she does so like a disappointed parent in front of a problematic child.

It agitates Blake even more than it probably should.

“Blake, please.” Velvet pleads after a second, not once breaking eye contact with her. “Your family can keep you safe.”

“For how long?” Blake counters, shrugging off Velvets hold on her. Ignoring the way it makes the girl gasp. “If this bounty on me is true. How long can they ward off the White Fang? My father couldn’t do it before, and he certainly won’t be able to do it again.”

The words hurt. Even as she spits them with a venom comparable to a mambas, she wishes that she could take it back. But she can’t.

It’s too late now.

Velvet looks away from her, and Blake thinks that she might actually walk away. Not that Blake would blame her – but she doesn’t.

Instead, she exhales a short breath and kicks a random pebble at her feet. “So what are you going to do?”

_Dust, what was she going to do?_

“I can’t stay here.” Blake starts off with, because its the most obvious response. “But I can’t go to my parents either. It’s not safe for them, or anyone else that would help.”

Velvet frowns at her, and before she even speaks Blake annoyingly knows that she’s going to shut her down. “So where are you going to go? The ruins? The forest?” She says almost mockingly.

Blake says nothing. Those really were her only options.

_Unless she could somehow sneak onto the train to the Capitol..._

Her silence is clearly taken as acceptance by Velvet who grabs at Blakes pain ridden shoulders and balls the bloodied fabric into her fists.

“Blake, are you crazy.” She hisses, slightly shaking her. “You wouldn’t be able to survive out there!”

“Ouch, Velvet stop!” Blake growls as she unsuccessfully tries to push away from the grip. “I never said those were the plan.”

“Then what is Blake?” Velvet questions, letting her go but not moving away. “Because I’m not letting you do something stupid.”

Blake dusts down her jacket before she answers, wincing at the sharp pain which stabs through her shoulder as she does. Velvet was surprisingly more... _Emotional_ and _involved_ than she remembered.

“I can’t tell you.”

Unfortunately this just seems to annoy Velvet even more, if the way her rabbit ears flicker back towards her spine is any indication. So Blake does the only thing that she understands will convince Velvet to let her go her own way; she tells the truth.

“Look, what would happen if the White Fang thought that you had any information of where I went? Do you think that you’d be safe?” She asks rhetorically, knowing that they both knew that Adam had tortured and probably killed captured Peacekeepers for Intel. “I can’t have you being hurt because of me on my conscience”

She leaves out the part where she didn’t trust Velvet to not tell her parents where she’ll go. Aware that if either her father or mother found out that she was trying to sneak off to the Capitol, they’d do everything in their limited power to stop her. Even if it got themselves killed in the process.

And Blake wouldn’t let that happen.

“Blake.” Velvet begins, her tone laced with a cautious sadness as she wraps her left arm across her chest. “ _Please_ , you don’t have to do this.”

Blakes own ears flick towards her scalp as she locks eyes with Velvet, Her emotions betraying how she really felt despite how she nods her head and lies. “Yes, I do. Velvet... You know that no one will be safe. That the White Fang will never stop, so please, help me keep my family alive.”

It’s a difficult favour to ask for. She knows that. And though she’s putting Velvet at risk just from standing here with her now, despite her speech on protecting people. She also knows that she needs an ally. Someone who didn’t have any substantial injuries and someone who the White Fang wasn’t searching for.

And unfortunately for Velvet, she was her only candidate.

It all just depended on if she'd accept it or not. Blake would not force her into this.

“What do you need me to do?”

Blakes ears dart back upright at the pure conviction in Velvets voice as her fellow faunus straightens her back and melds her hands into fists. Her posture would’ve been somewhat intimidating if not for the fact that it was Velvet who was doing it.

“I need you to go to the slums. The far-most building with the two barricaded windows.” She instructs, ignoring the way Velvets eyes bulge at the mention of the slums. “There will be a backpack in the cupboard to the right as soon as you open the door with an emergency kit and supplies inside. I just need you to grab it for me as soon as you can. That’s if you still want to...”

Velvet swallows - seemingly in hesitation, but after a second she says “Of course.”

“Are you sure?” Blake double-checks. The slums weren’t the nicest place for herself, too many people with too a bad a reputation. Let alone someone not reacquainted with the area.

_Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all._

“Yes, I’m sure.” Velvet confirms. “Is there anything else that you’ll need?”

Blake frowns as she thinks. She held nothing of particular value in her and Adams apartment. _Except_... “Yes, underneath where you’ll find the backpack there’s a hidden drawer. Just push against the compartment and there will be a photo inside. Could you – could you please get it for me.”

Velvet nods her head and her lips curve into a slight smile. “Of course.” She says tenderly before taking a step back away from Blake. “So, it’s the far most building with two barricaded windows, right?”

“Yes.” Blake confirms, as she smiles back. “That’s the one.”

“Okay, well I’ll be back as soon as possible. Just stay here and stay safe.” Velvet says as she takes one last look at her before she turns around and starts jogging down the alley.

“Velvet, wait!” Blake calls out, content when Velvet pauses and looks back over her shoulder.

_Why are you doing this?_

“Thank you.” Is what she says instead. And though it doesn’t seem enough - like she owes Velvet something more than just words for her life. It makes Velvet smile like it is enough– a real smile that reaches up to her eyes.

It takes a slight weight off of Blakes chest as Velvet shyly waves at her before she turns and runs around a bend in the alley to the left and out of sight. Leaving Blake alone once more.

Blake sighs in relief as she slowly walks back to her cover behind the bin. This time finding a circular lid and placing it onto the body to block out the awful smell before it could make her sick. She then groans as she lowers herself onto the ground with a heavy ‘thump’. Panting slightly at the effort before she tends to her injuries.

They’re more painful than she remembers. But hopefully that’s just from the toll of the hectic day that she’s had since the fighting, and not from the wounds getting infected.

She grimaces in distaste at the thought of infection. She had no real medicine against it in her emergency pack aside from a couple of disinfectants, which wouldn’t do her much good if she waited too long. And she couldn’t exactly ask Velvet to go to a pharmacy when she returned; the Reaping caused all businesses to close for the entire day, and even if it was open neither of them could afford it.

Rolling up her right legging, she winces at the sight of an already darkening bruise which paints her calve an unsightly purple and multiple reddened scrapes. Thankfully none of the grazes have caused cuts or gashes, but that’s about as much as she can tell by what she can see.

The _muscles_ in her legs and right shoulder however, are definitely strained. The one in her arm definitely pulled further than it should’ve been. But aside from that and her aching feet, it seemed to be the worst of it. She gingerly rolls the legging back down after her clumsy diagnosis and hums lowly in her throat.

She got lucky this time. Her injuries not substantial enough to stop her from returning to the train and escaping the White Fang – if Velvet could get her supplies that is. And though she technically didn’t need her emergency bag, she knew that her chances of not getting caught and acclimatising to the Capitol lifestyle would be drastically higher if she did.

Her hands lazily come around her midriff as she thinks about living amongst high-born society. She’d have to adjust to their mannerisms, their routines and their privilege if she wanted to blend in.

The thought makes her sarcastically huff as she curls tighter around herself. A sudden chill consuming her skin as a light breeze sweeps past.

She can imagine that it would be like one of the old stories her mother used to tell her when she was younger. The one where the girl went through multiple trials and tribulations before going from rags to riches; _The girl with the glass slippers,_ she recalls fondly.

She smiles at the memory before grimacing when she realises that she wouldn’t be seeing her family again for a while. As the people who lived in the Capitol generally made a habit not to visit the districts, so there would be no public trains to take. Meaning that she’d have no choice but to return on the Reaping train...

_Once a year._

Loneliness quietly blooms inside of her chest at the realisation. And though they hadn’t exactly spoken to each other in what had to have been roughly two and a half years, she could have always visited her parents. But now she wouldn’t have that luxury.

She’d be completely alone.

_Which reminds her that Velvet had been gone for longer than she probably should’ve been..._

Fear tingles gently down Blakes spine as she cautiously leans forwards past her cover and focuses on her hearing. An anxious ball forming tight in her stomach as she hopes to hear a scuttle, a footstep or something that would indicate Velvets return.

But there was nothing.

She quickly reaches out to the wall behind her for support as she successfully stands up. Worry over where Velvet was consuming her like a untameable blaze as she hesitantly hobbles forwards.

_What if Velvet got lost? – Unlikely, though she didn’t know the area as well as Blake, it wasn’t that much of a maze._

_What if a Peacekeeper had found her? - Possible, but Velvet was old enough not to be entered in the games. They would have no reason to keep her there._

_What if she’d been bluffing about helping her and had gone to tell her parents instead? – Highly probable. Velvet seemingly held more allegiance to her father than Blake herself. But would she actually do it?_

Blake didn’t know the answer. But it became clear to her that her only guaranteed option of getting on that train undisturbed was leaving, and leaving right now.

She increases her previous walking speed as she quickly turns around, deciding to sacrifice the idea of conserving her energy in order to rush as fast as she could back to the hole in the fence. And though she felt terrible for abandoning Velvet if she did return, she knew that if Ghira or Kali came around the corner instead, she wouldn’t be strong enough to leave.

So she forces her aching bones into a jog, almost crying out loud at the sheer pain which darts across her leg – when suddenly there up ahead, a shadow darts across the wall.

Blake halts all movement like a statue made of stone. But the shadow keeps advancing towards her regardless, like a shark following the smell of blood as heavy footsteps clear as day approach. The darkness morphing into a figure as the person steps into the light.

“ _Velvet_?” Blake squeaks out, her body taught as if zapped with a thousand volts as she locks eyes with the person opposite.

Realising all too late that it's not Velvet.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder who could it be?
> 
> I know of course, but what do you guys think?
> 
> Also, I'm sorry about not replying to comments. I love reading them but when it comes to writing a reply about my work I get a bit anxious.
> 
> Hope you guys can understand. 
> 
> All the best, 
> 
> IndecisiveRaven.


	4. The Reaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all knew this was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "BuT tHe NeXt OnE sHoUlD bE cOmInG oUt SoOnEr ThAn UsUaL." -Me, last chapter, last month. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/ ¯

“You know, this wasn’t the best place to hide little girl.” Hazel states as he stares her down. His hulking frame only more massive as Blake stands before him, quivering in fear.

 _This can’t be happening_.

“Look.” Hazel says as he takes a single step towards her, eyebrows furrowing when Blake steps back. “I don’t want to do this as much as you don’t want to go kid. But it’s either going to me – “ He explains, moving to the side. Showing another shadow behind him which morphs into a secondary Peacekeeper. “Or him.”

Blakes eye twitches and her palms start to sweat at the sight of the second man. It was highly unlikely that she’d get away from one of them, left alone _two_.

The second Peacekeeper giggles as he steps away from the shadows. With his exceptionally beady eyes and a long plaited ponytail which swooshes behind him, he’s already far more intimidating than Hazel is as his giggles quickly devolve into hysterical laughs. Spinning around a sharpened baton from seemingly thin air.

Blake can feel her heart pound like a steel drum as her eyes focus in on the weapon the other man wields, realising with a start that its wasn’t a baton after all. But a tail; A _scorpion_ tail.

 _Of course_.

“This one’s going to be a runner, Hazel.” The scorpion faunus goads, his voice biting and his eyes eager. “You certainly know how to pick them for me.”

“No, she’s not.” Hazel rebukes. Slowly trying to approach her though it just causes Blake to step further and further back, not once taking her eyes off them.

She _knows_ that if she looks away, they’ll pounce.

If she runs, they’ll chase.

If she fights, they’ll win.

She’s seen Peacekeepers capture children and teenagers that fight or run before. And it never ends well.

Especially if they find out that she’s _armed_.

“You’re going to come peacefully with us, aren’t you?” Hazel asks, studying her with his eyes like he’s unsure if she’s actually going to attempt to flee as she continues walking away from them. “You know better than to try and escape.”

Blake grimaces at him as her right hand reaches behind her where Gambol Shroud feels like a massive weight on her back. Calling and beckoning her to wield it and just _try_.  
  
Adam would’ve.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” She spits out as her waist finally clashes against the bin behind her.

A loud cackle suddenly sparks throughout the alleyway as the second Peacekeeper laughs at her. Bent over and holding his knees like she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, I _like_ this one. She’ll definitely be a contender.”

In the split second that Hazel turns his head and looks away to his companion, Blake detaches Gambol Shroud and fumbles with her left hand behind her and dislodges the bins lid. Dropping her weapon in the bin under the guise of falling over as Hazel looks back.

With an even larger frown on his face.

Blake takes a side step away from the bin to lead him away from it as he storms with vengeance towards her. And though fear runs rampant through her bones – another emotion burns brighter:

 _Defiance_.

It only takes him seconds to reach inside her personal space, so much so that she could reach out and push him away – but she doesn’t.

She holds her ground.

“What’s your name, girl.” He asks as his shadow looms over her. “What’s your age?”

Blake swallows hard around the sudden lump in her throat as she answers. “My name is Velvet Scarlatina and I’m nineteen years old. Un-eligible to be entered to the Reaping.”

Hazel huffs as he nods his head at Blake, silently instructing her to follow them as he turns around and starts walking the same way that he came from. Grunting a hoarse “We’ll see about that.” As Blake follows only a few steps behind.

And though she obviously _doesn’t_ want to go, Blake understands that she doesn’t have much of a choice.

There was no point in running, negotiating with them or waiting for Velvet to return as it would just annoy these men more than necessary and cause a scene. And that’s the last thing she needs right now.

Fennec and Corsec wouldn’t even break a sweat if these Peacekeepers delivered her to their doorstep kicking and screaming.

The thought makes her grimace before she turns and looks over her good shoulder for the final time as they turn by a corner. Hoping that Velvet was safe. Wherever she was.  
  
“How many other kids are missing, Hazel?” The second man suddenly asks from beside her, making Blake jump slightly as she only just realises how  _close_  he is.

Hazel sighs as he taps at what Blake presumes is a watch on his wrist – but is actually a blue hologram projection. A scrollable file popping up with a press of Hazel’s finger and what looks like a list of names loads onto the device.

“According to the register, fifteen.”

“Oh! “ The other man shrieks in delight. His enthusiasm causing Blake to turn to look at him, slightly nauseated as he stomps his feet excitedly against the ground. “Leave them to me!”

“ _Tyrian_!” Hazel yells, but Tyrian is already running wildly away. Screaming for any run-away children to come out of hiding now, before he could really hurt them.

Blake shivers as his laughter and the screams of infants echoes from down the street.

_How could anyone get pleasure from tormenting children?_

She snarls as she rushes towards the noise, fully intending to stop Tyrian by any means necessary until Hazel instantly slams his massive hand onto her shoulder. Crippling her in pain instantly.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growls as he tugs Blakes arm back. “He’s not actually going to hurt them.”

Blake coughs as her body tries overriding the pain. Frowning at Hazel who seems so sure of himself despite the yells in the background.“How do you know?” She challenges.

Hazel grumbles something about _punishments_ but says nothing else. Making Blake think that either he didn’t know that Tyrian wasn’t going to hurt them or he didn’t want to tell her. Regardless of which one it was, it just agitates Blake more.

“Just keep walking, kid.” He commands as he points ahead. “The quicker you get there, the quicker this will be over.”

She growls lowly but says nothing else as she storms towards the direction Hazel gestures to. Recognising instantly that they were about to leave the maze of abandoned houses and enter the main road. Roughly three minutes away from the Central Hall and to the Reaping.

Her palms grow sweaty at the sight of the empty stools and buildings which line the dusty road. Usually it would be a struggle to even _breathe_ walking through here. But not today. No, today it was a ghost town. Not even the adults who physically couldn’t enter the games because of their age were here. They’d be at the Reaping too, forced to _watch_. It was sickening, yet somehow a tradition that the Peacekeepers had enforced here. A gross reminder from the Capitol that ‘look we’re taking away your children, and there’s nothing that you can do about it.’

Blake lowers her head in shame as the sounds of bustling people start to filter back into her hearing. She’d personally done this walk five times in the past, but this time it somehow feels the most difficult out of all of them. Whether through her recent failures or due to the fact that she had skipped out of the Reaping for the last two Games since what had happened to Ilia was unknown to her. But what she did know was that she couldn’t face the memories before.

And now she didn’t have a choice.

“Go to the lady sat on the right.” Hazel orders abruptly, making Blake stop mid-step to see the small registration stands ahead. “She’ll take your information then direct you to where you need to go.”

“I know how the Reaping works.” Blake snaps as her patience with the Peacekeeper runs thin. “I’ve been here before.”

Hazels huffs as he frowns at her, clearly unamused by her attitude.

“Whatever kid. Good luck.” He eventually grumbles before turning on his heels and stomping away, causing a cloud of dust to explode underneath his feet with each step.

And for a moment, Blake has a fleeting urge to ask where he’s going, but she holds it in. She highly doubts that he’d tell her and even if he did, there was nothing Blake could do about it.

“Hey, you.” A voice suddenly calls out from up ahead, snapping Blake out of her thoughts about where Hazel was going. “Over here, young lady.”

Blake grimaces at a woman with deer antlers sat at a quite frankly, randomly placed table at the end of the road who was calling her over.

There were eight armed Peacekeepers surrounding her, but the other two tables to her left were empty, meaning that she was the last registrar for the Reaping.

_Lucky her._

“Name?” She calls out as Blake walks over to her. Pulling out a pen and a massive paper folder from her lap.  
  
“Blake, Blake Belladonna.” Blake answers drolly as she arrives at the end of an old wooden desk which she had presumed to be a table.

She had never really liked this part, though her name was early on in the register meaning that she’d be entered quickly.  
  
The lady frowns as she flips a couple of pages before presumably finding the ‘B’ section. A faint curve crossing her lips as she clearly finds Blakes last name.

“Blake Belladonna, seventeen years old, only one admittance into the Reaping this year. Can you confirm that this information is correct?”

“Yes, it’s correct.” Blake says as the lady reaches into one of the desks drawers and pulls out a small, metallic machine. One that Blake knows was gifted from the Capitol in order to take her blood so that they could _prove_ that it was really her. So that if people lied to the Peacekeepers about their identity like she did, they would get caught out and punished.

The deer faunus holds the device in her right hand as she reaches out towards Blake with her left. Silently asking Blake to place her finger onto the scanner and needle. Which she does, albeit gladly when the observing Peacekeepers seem to deflate a little when Blake doesn’t even flinch at the cut which pierces through the skin of her index finger.

“There. All done.” The woman confirms as the device flashes blue and she ticks next to Blakes name. “One of these gentlemen will escort you to the other seventeen year olds. Then the Reaping should begin shortly. Good luck, Blake.”

Blake doesn’t say thank you. In fact, she says nothing at all as one of the Peacekeepers approaches her and gestures towards the entrance of the Central Hall with the barrel of their gun.

She knew first hand that wishing someone luck had no effect with the Reaping. Because even without the tesserae system; whereby in exchange for extra rations of grain and food, a child’s name would be added an extra time into the Reaping balls. The ‘odds’ were in no one's favour.

She should know. Her own father was Reaped for the sixty-second Hunger Games because of tesserae after all.

“Keep moving, girly.” The Peacekeeper abruptly barks, startling Blake who didn’t even realise that she had stopped walking. “There’s no reason to stop when we’re almost there.”

Blake grunts as she looks up and sees the mass crowd of adults which circle the square. Despite what the Peacekeeper said, they weren’t _almost_ there. They’d actually arrived.

Her hands start quaking as the parents and other adults murmur as they all turn to her and part like an open wound as the Peacekeeper pokes her onwards.

She ignores the gun at her back though, too busy desperately searching for a flicker of black cat ears, the sound of her mothers voice. But there’s nothing.

Her mother's _not_ here.

She twists and turns her head, terrified and lost. Yet, the only thing she sees is sadness, recognition, anger and pity clear on all of the other adults faces as they watch her pass. None of them taking action to stop or help her.

“Over there. To the left at the back. Go and stand with the others.” The Peacekeeper commands as he psychically _pushes_ her towards the other girls at the back end of the square.

Blake stumbles at the force as she frantically tries looking to the central stage for her father. Her body only just somehow recovering her footing as she’s roughly thrown together with the others who groan and whisper at her arrival.

But she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care about the sudden heat which encompasses her entire body.

She doesn’t care about the Reaping.  
  
She doesn’t care about herself.

She just _needs_ to see if her mother and father again.

Sliding and squeezing her way past several other girls, Blake forces her way towards the front row. She knows that it’ll be so easy for Corsec and Fennec to spot her but it doesn’t matter. Because now she can clearly see the camera stand and central stage. And most importantly, the two Reaping balls and the five empty chairs to the right of the microphone that’s standing the in the middle.

She knows that three of the chairs there were for random Capitol officials who attended to oversee the Reaping for political appearances, and the other two were for the ex-Victor’s of previous games. And for Twelve, that was Sienna and Ghira.

But neither of them were there.

Blake could feel herself start to hyperventilate. For as the leader of Twelve, Sienna _always_ made sure that she appeared before everyone else did. And her father never missed his attendance at the Reaping.

It makes her stomach tightly tense with a sickly unease as sharp little wheezes escape for her mouth.

There’s too much happening at once, too many hidden dangers, so many possibilities of where her parents could be but _aren’t_.

She just needs to know that they’re safe.

But she can’t.

All she _can_ do now is wait until the Reaping would end. Which usually – depending on the announcer, Blake recalls that it lasted for around ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for her to escape or find out where her family is.

Unless they find her first.

Blake wipes her sweaty hands onto her leggings as the farthest door of the central hall suddenly opens and people start filing out like clockwork.

Hope for her father briefly flickering in her heart as she keenly watches a plump man with a large grey moustache, a lanky green haired man and a blonde haired lady lead the way for the rest of the guests as they walk across the stage and sit down on the three of the five chairs once they reach the end.

But that’s it.

Sienna and Ghira haven’t arrived.

Blake immediately spins on her heels and pushes her way back through the crowd of girls. All caution of being spotted by her enemies thrown to the wind as she makes her way back towards the main road.

She chants the words “ _Please be safe_. _Please be safe._ ” Like a mantra under her breath as she reaches the final row of seventeen year old girls and approaches the wall of subdued adults.

None of them looking at her, but to the stage.

Blake quickly surveys the guard and camera stands for any overlooking Peacekeepers, realising with a start that they too aren’t watching her.

Everyone’s mesmerised by something on the grandstand.

And Blake doesn’t waste her opportunity.

She sprints across the impossible gap between slaughter and safety, biting her lip to quiet her pained screams as she crashes with the sea of bodies.

All of them groaning and gasping at the sudden wrecking ball of weight that crashes through them and rips a divide through their ranks.

“ _Hey! – Stop”_

 _“What are you doing_!”

Some scream at her, some try to grasp with twisted hands, pushing, pulling and weighing her down but she doesn’t stop.

 _She_ _can’t_ _stop_.

She pierces through the wall like an unstoppable force, almost falling to her knees in sheer determination to keep pushing forwards.

But she doesn’t care.

She can hear the Peacekeepers yelling orders, readying guns. Feel them aiming down their sights.

Yet it doesn’t matter.

She sees the exit and the main road.

She’s _so_ close.

She can make it.

Her legs push impossibly faster, wracking up an endless sea of dust in her wake. Freedom and answers are just within her grasp -

But then she sees it.

Up ahead.

Two white armoured suits - Standing, waiting.

Holding a familiar rabbit eared faunus at gunpoint.

Blake gasps as her legs finally fail her and she skids and falls to the ground.

The impact is brutal.

Her palms reach forwards on instinct and take the brunt of the force, her knees fold and bend to the side but it’s not enough.

She smells the blood before she sees it, before she _feels_ it.

She’s been cut up everywhere.

“ _Blake_!” She faintly hears Velvet scream while Tyrian laughs.

The ground shakes like thunder as what must be twenty Peacekeepers run towards her and circle where she lies. The click of their guns heavy to her ears as they take the safety off and bark orders at her.

But she doesn’t listen.

She grunts as she twists her back and raises herself up onto her elbows. Gross trails of thick sweat slipping down her back and running down her spine as she unsteadily pushes herself up and onto her bloodied knees.

If they think that they can arrest her easily, they’re wrong.

She stays silent as her breathing slowly recovers and her heart painfully thumps within her chest.

She’s thinking of all of the impossible ways to get out of this situation when suddenly the circle of Peacekeepers opens in front of her and Hazel, Tyrian and Lionheart all step through.

And unsurprisingly, Tyrian is the only one that seems to be enjoying this.

“Grab her.” Hazel abruptly orders as he glowers at her. There’s no remorse, no pity or no hesitation in the command. Nothing.

It makes Blake growl as Lionheart approaches. His eyes filled with worry and his hands unsure, like he doesn’t know what to do. Which is only proven more when he gently kneels down next to her and places a hand on her shoulder. Almost as if he’s _asking_ her to go with them and not forcing her into it.

The jokes on him though. She’s not willingly going anywhere, even if she could stand up by herself.

Hazel nods his head to Tyrian then. The crazed man smiling like he’d just been given the best news of his life as he runs forwards, seemingly understanding that Lionheart was too much of a coward to apprehend prisoners or that Blake was just too stubborn.

He roughly pushes Lionheart out of the way, ignoring the other Peacekeepers yell as he grabs a handful of Blake’s hair and _pulls_.

Blake howls as he tackles the rest of her body to the ground with his knee against her back.

It hurts

 _Dust does it hurt_.

“S-stop!” She chokes, the weight against her ribs making every breath itch and every word _burn_.

“Stop – _please_!”

“Tyrian, that’s enough.” Hazel barks, but the pressure doesn’t stop. " _Tyrian_.”

Blake gasps as he finally slides his knee off of her back and onto the ground. Not even truly feeling the way he roughly pins both of her arms behind her back and locks them tight within a pair of handcuffs.

She can feel tears begin to sting into her eyes as he grabs her hair again in a punishing grip. Her agony only worsening when he pulls her back up and onto her knees before stepping back next to Hazel’s side.

_How could he be so cruel?_

“So, are you going to grab her now, or am I going to let Tyrian here subdue you too.” Hazel suddenly barks out as he points to Lionheart who’s quivering in fear beside her.

Blake thickly swallows through her parched throat as Lionheart scrambles to his feet and approaches her again. And though he fumbles to get her to stand, he’s really trying this time. So she ultimately decides to take mercy on them both and accept his clumsy aid. Even if it means that she’s resting the majority of her dead-weight against him.

Just as long as she doesn’t have to go through Tyrian again.

“There. It wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Lionheart chokes out a small “No, sir.” As he walks Blake forwards towards them. Struggling a little with how his prisoner has to limp to get anywhere.

“Good. Now come on, this one has a big few days coming up.” Hazel growls as he turns around and his fellow Peacekeepers move away from the circle. But they don’t leave no.

She frowns in confusion as five of them walk in front of the Captains while two march besides her and Lionheart. The rest trailing behind her, none of them disarming their weapons.

 _Oh, no_.

She cranes her neck as much as she can in order to try and see where they’re taking her. Maybe the Peacekeepers barracks? The central hall? Where else could they be going?

It’s only when she looks back behind her down the road that _where_ they’re going doesn’t matter to her anymore as she suddenly realises something.

Velvets not there.

In fact, she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Where – where’s my friend?” Blake groans as she puts pressure on the ball of her foot just the wrong way. “The rabbit faunus.”

Lionheart grimaces at her before looking away. “Quiet.”

“Please.” Blake begs, her footing stumbling even more. “Just tell me she’s alright.”

“She’s alive.” Is the only response she gets before Lionheart tightens his hold around her back and tugs her forwards faster.

And though it's not the exact response that she wants, Blake’s glad for the information. She just hopes that it’s not a lie.

If Tyrian has done anything to her..

The thought of murder however is quickly knocked out of mind as the Peacekeepers in front of Hazel disperse and clear the way through the sprawl of adults which still linger around the central hall. All of them silent and gawking as they are herded like cattle _away_ from Blake.

_This really isn’t good._

She awkwardly leans on Lionheart even more as they pass through the adults and return to the rows of kids. But this time, instead of returning her to her place amongst the seventeen year old girls, the guards stop just before the steps onto the stage between the boys and the girls.

_They were going to publicly execute her._

The loud clanking sound of metal bashing against metal echoes loudly in Blake's ears as her hands start to tremble behind her, making her handcuffs sing a tortured song which follows the tempo of her racing heart.

_Dust, she’s petrified._

Even as someone walks towards the microphone away from the Reaping balls, she doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to see death before she meets it.

But she doesn’t have a choice.

“Blake Belladonna.” Deaths smooth voices purrs. Calling, _beckoning_ for her. “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Blakes throat painfully tightens as she finally looks up to the stage. Her eyes meeting her demise.

Clothed in red cashmere and glistening jewels with glass heels. She is a vision. The way that her midnight hair falls like water down her exposed arms and contrasts the gold of her eyes making it even easier to compare her to some kind of goddess.

A goddess of death.

 _Cinder Fall_.

“Though it’s a pity that your capture was so quick Blake, I’m sure that you’ll perform much better in the Games.”

“ _What_.” Blake gasps. Her voice weak, _broken_.

She must have heard Cinder wrong.

There was no way -

No.

Her muscles instantly lock up as she struggles to find words.

This just _couldn’t_ happen.

“No. No, no.” She shrieks, her head violently shaking with each repeat.

“No.”

She was supposed to be _arrested_.  
Not made to fight to the death in an arena filled with kids for entertainment.

She struggles in vein against Lionheart as Cinder unravels a piece of paper the size of a finger in her hands. And though she has to squint to read what it says, it’s impossible to miss Cinders devilish smirk or the words: _Blake Belladonna_ that’s written on the slip.

She was the female tribute for District Twelve.

“ _No_!” She screams as Lionheart pulls her towards the staircase which leads up to the stage. “No! You _can’t_ do this!”

She violently thrashes in his grip like a fish out of water, wailing as she’s dragged up the first step.

Screeching in pain at the third.

_It can’t end like this!_

On the final step, when Lionheart is going to haul her next to Cinder, she strikes.

Instead of pulling against him, she rushes forwards.

The soreness of the collision of her head against his nose is agonizing.

The sound of bone breaking even more so.

But he let’s her go to scream in pain.

And that’s all she needs.

She howls as she drops down to the floor and rolls off of the corner of the stage. Her heart beating frantically as she searches and searches.

Until there.  
  
She sees her only escape from this hell.

Holding her breath she runs.

She sprints as her life depends on it.

And though the tackle is murderous. She _knew_ it was coming.

So when Tyrian flips her over onto her back and starts hitting her again and again with his baton, the blood which spews from her mouth is _sweet_.

She’d rather die here and now. The place where her brothers and sisters or the White Fang were executed then in the Hunger Games; Rather die in a place where her mother and father weren’t there to watch.

“Tyrian!” Someone shouts. “Tyrian, stop!”

But it’s too late. Blake can feel it in the way her heart has to _work_ to beat. Knows that once you’re lungs struggle to fill and the puddle of red around you gets too big that your fate is sealed.

Even when the weight of him is lifted off of her suddenly. She chokes out a smile.

If somehow she survived this, they wouldn’t _want_ to take her anyway; The Capitol would get no entertainment from a broken toy.

It’s only when her stomach lurches and blood spills in red rivers down from her mouth as suddenly she’s made to sit up that the smile leaves her face.

Hazel’s massive arms grabbing her waist and hoisting her over his shoulder.

Her arms and hands tingle in heat and she abruptly grasps tightly onto his armour as she vomits a valley of red down his back.

Though he doesn't seem to care.

She jolts and winces with every step the goliath of a man takes. The walk up to the stage being the most nauseating until he gently lifts her off of his shoulder and settles her down so that she's kneeling like a dog at Cinders side.

It would have been humiliating if only Blake could find it in herself to care.

Because all of sudden, her attention is immediately taken away as the door behind them slowly creaks open and the leader of Twelve peaks her head around the door.

“ _Sienna_!” Blake gasps, her heartbeat seemingly coming back to life at the face of her Leader.

_Maybe there was a way out of this after all!_

Sienna's ears bend backwards as she places her index finger over her lips. Asking Blake to stay silent as she nods her head to Cinder who's giving some sort of speech.

“.. Despite being such a spirited fighter.” Cinder says as she faces towards the camera. “She’ll definitely be one to watch out for in this year's Hunger Games. I just wonder, with such a determined female tribute, will the boys fair any better?”

Blake growls as she spits out blood at Cinders feet. Enjoying the way that it makes the other woman curl her fists as she clearly tries to refrain herself from breaking her ‘calm’ persona.

Only for Cinder to smile as she looks at Blake for a second then walks over to the Reaping ball to her right. Dipping her hand deep into the clear bowl of names until she pulls out a slip from inside and unfolds it.

“The male tribute for District twelve is…”

“I volunteer as tribute! “ A voice yells from the crowd and Blakes heart stops.

“I volunteer.” The man repeats again and Blakes whole being shakes as she looks up, not believing that it's him until she sees it.

Adam is sauntering his way onto stage.

His mask and bloody outer robe discarded as he violently pushes past the Peacekeepers that had escorted Blake and saunters up the stairs and onto the stage.

“This is certainly a turn of events. I think the record for most volunteers has been broken, ladies and gentleman. Though I must say I never expected it from this district.” Cinder says slightly amused but Blake ignores it.

All of her focus is on Adam.

She starts shuffling madly back as he starts striding towards her. Venom, hatred and murder clear in his crimson eyes when he's suddenly barred by Hazel.

Adam snarls ferociously as the Peacekeeper pushes him back with one arm before looking at him up and down. Clearly judging him for something as he spits out. “Aren’t you a little old to be in this competition?”

Sweet, sweet _relief_ fills Blake to the core and she almost screams in victory as Adam is finally stopped.

He couldn’t go into the games at his age – and even if he lied. The records would have proof.

He wouldn't be able to come anywhere near her; She’s been saved.

That is – until Sienna steps out from her hiding space and speaks up.

“I can testify that this young man is eighteen.” She declares, closing the door behind her and sauntering towards Hazel. “And he will dutifully represent the strongest male our district has to offer. ”

Adam dangerously smirks at the words, looking back to Blake, who’s completely speechless and broken.

“Very well.” Cinder says, beckoning the Hazel to let Adam go. “What’s your name, tribute?"

“Adam, Adam Taurus.” He states before completely brushing off Cinder to stalk next to Blake.

“No. No! He's not eighteen. No! ” She whimpers, her bottom lip viciously trembling as Adam grabs her arm and pulls her back up to her feet despite her screams.

Completely oblivious to the way that Cinder smiles before addressing the camera once more. “And that is them all, ladies and gentlemen. The last of the tributes for this year’s hunger games."

Adam snakes his hand around Blakes wrist at the words and squeezes so tightly, Blake’s voice breaks. Her tears cascading in a messy cascade down her face at Cinders last words.

“And may the odds, be ever in your favour." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. Let me break things down a little about this chapter. This is where this Hunger Games universe of mine splits into like three different stories. This one just happens to be the "Sun Wukong isn't the male tribute for District Twelve." one.
> 
> And no, I won't be writing the universe where he is that tribute for that district. I'm happy at the moment to just share this one and enjoy the agony of knowing that Adams going to be there with Blake during the Games. 
> 
> As for how Adam got back to the Reaping in time, I'm going to explain that more next chapter though the scene from " The Emperor's new groove" with the map is pretty similar to how it happens here.
> 
> And the question of "Where's Velvet, Kali and Ghira???!"
> 
> There's only one way to find out. 
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it for chapter one. I've been sitting on this work for bloody months now and I was just like.. Bugger it, let's upload it now and see what the people think... So I do hope that you liked it. 
> 
> Anyhow as for updates: Due to my hectic work schedule and way too over-dramatic trips to the hospital, updates may not be regular. Please forgive me. 
> 
> On the flip side however, I do want to publish lots and lots of work for the bees in the future because I love them. So yeah, I guess I'll see you in chapter two. 
> 
> All the best, 
> 
> DeadliestNightshade.


End file.
